Sinking
by SlowlyxFading
Summary: Tobias Eaton can't get over the death of Tris Prior, so he deals with it the only way he knows how. By drinking his cares away. Now, he has a bigger problem to deal with. Being an alcoholic. Scarce updates.
1. Prolgoue

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I don't own "The Divergent Trilogy", its characters, setting, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fanmade and no profit is being made from this. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**AN: Set a few months after Tris' death.**

**Prologue**

Tobias sat across from his old friend, Zeke, his sixth bottle of beer in his hand. Zeke was mumbling about something, his head hung low as he tipped his beer into his mouth. Tobias nodded along to whatever he was saying, not really understanding the words that were coming out of his friends' mouth, whether it was because of the alcohol or that his thoughts were already preoccupied.

He knew it was a mixture of both.

There was no one in the small bar they were in, a few people here and there but other than that, they had the place to themselves. "And you know what he did? He yelled at me!" Zeke slammed his beer bottle on the table, the contents swishing around inside as he started stuttering to himself.

Tobias ignored him, focusing on the fact that the beer in his hand is helping with the pain in his chest. He takes another sip, closing his eyes as the liquid slides down his throat, burning it slightly. The blonde haired woman he's still in love with is haunting his thoughts, stopping him from forgetting the purpose of this whole thing.

To forget about the pain.

"Now I have to be the 'bigger person' and apologize to him! When he yelled at me!" Zeke exclaimed, clenching and unclenching his fist.

This was normal for Tobias. He and Zeke would go out and get drunk every Friday night, considering they don't have to work the next two days. And while Zeke would rant, Tobias would give up his hope of forgetting the pain and just let the blonde haired woman steal his thoughts.

Again.

The image of Tris floods his brain, making its presence known by adding the sound of her laughter. Her light, airy laugh fills his ears while her blue gray eyes brand themselves on his eyelids, making it impossible for him to close his eyes. A sob threatens to escape his mouth and his teeth bite down on his tongue, holding it in.

_Take another sip! _His mind screams at him but he can't, he won't. Because that would make him take another, then another and then eventually, he'll get another bottle. Then another five more. And he doesn't want that. Because that'll make him like Marcus, drinking until he passes out on the couch. Or in this case, the table.

But how can he not, considering that's all he's accustomed too. Growing up, his only "role model" was a lying scummbag who drank everything and beat his own son for his own pleasure.

All though he had vowed to himself to never become like Marcus, it's been harder and harder. And all though he hates to admit it, he understands why Marcus did what he did, drink until he lost meaning of everything, sense of the world at times. His fear would then kick in and he would quickly throw his bottle away before realizing what he did and ordering another one to make up for it.

The sound of Tris saying "I love you" comes back and the tears threaten to spill over. _If you love me why did you leave me? _Is always his first mental response. _Why did you sacrifice yourself for your brother, the man who betrayed you! The one who helped Jeanine torture you! _Came next. And then the voices in his head were all shouting and making his head feel as if it were going to spin off.

He freed his tongue of the pain and to his dismay, the tactic of hurting yourself to distract yourself of a greater pain, didn't work. To rid himself of the pain of losing Tris, he would have to drink to the point where he was delusional. The beer was still sitting in his hand, the condensation making his grip on the bottle slightly less firm. He stared at it, contemplating whether or not he should drink the rest of it or go home, where he could attempt to get some needed sleep.

_You know if you go to sleep she's still there,_ Tobias nodded, which Zeke took as a sign to continue whining. _And if you don't go home you'll be here all night. _Tobias was at war with himself, trying to decide which form of Tris he'd rather see and tolerate the torture others call "pain".

There really was no point. Tobias knew that once he got home and saw all the empty liquor bottles on the floor, he's going to want some more. And he'll end up finding a half-empty one before scrounging around for another one before he passes out on the floor, drunk. And he knows if he stays here, he'll just drink until he passes out here or until the bartender calls him a cab home, where he'll most likely throw up in and start bawling.

He doesn't know what to do so he attempts to remember where he had passed out last time. His brain is showing him lying on the living room floor, sobbing her name but his gut is telling him that he had passed out at the table nearby. He considers asking Zeke where he'd crashed the previous Friday, but mentally scoffs at the idea. _Like Zeke would know, he can barely handle three beers before his head flops onto the table. _

Tobias stares at the beer bottle in his hand, the liquid screaming for him to finish it. Tris' voice is an urgent whisper mixed with a small gasp of disbelief, as if she really can't understand _why _he's even sitting in the bar. _Don't drink it! Go home and sober up! _He's tempted to listen to her, almost going along with it…but there's another voice in the back of his head…that's speaking very quietly but the meaning means volumes.

_Why listen to her when she didn't listen to you?_

And that does it for Tobias. He takes the beer and tips the cold bottle into his mouth, the liquid sliding into his mouth effortlessly. To his pleasure, Tris' voice fades away along with the pain in his chest. His eyes are bright and a small grimace is on his face as he doesn't feel the pain of losing the woman he loves just a few months prior to this day. All he feels is an empty feeling in his chest and his thoughts are also slowly fading along with the voices in his head.


	2. Outings

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I don't own "The Divergent Trilogy", its characters, setting, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fanmade and no profit is being made from this. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**AN: Set five years later**

**One - Outings**

Tobias groaned as Hanna pulled into a parking lot, Zeke slowly silencing the radio. He slouched against the door, putting his hands in his sweatshirt pocket as he muttered to himself. "Really? You drag me out of my apartment for this?" he asks, referring to the very sophisticated restaurant. "And you didn't even give me the decency to tell me we're going to such a fancy restaurant!"

"If we told you, you would start growing suspicious and you would refuse to dress the appropriate attire, or purposely stain it with whatever alcohol you decided to drink tonight," Hanna responded as she backed out slightly to even her car out. "And you probably would have refused to attend after about thirty different scenarios played out."

Tobias groaned as Hanna parked the car and took the key out of the ignition. He opened the car door, hoping onto the pavement. He slid his sunglasses over his bloodshot eyes as he trailed slightly behind Zeke and Hanna, who were quietly discussing their plans for that evening.

The sun was slowly setting, making him sweat slightly as the afternoon breeze began to slowly die off. Young women, no older than he, were wearing lose skirts and dresses. A few men were wearing either a light suit (or their definition of a suit considering that some of them wore jeans and put on a vest and called it a day) or were dabbing their foreheads with a napkin every few minutes.

"Pedrad, Hanna," she smiled as one of the waitress' handed her a buzzer.

Zeke led them over to an empty bench near the perfectly manicured bushes and grass. Soft, classical music played softly through the speakers' overhead, adding to the light, yet sophisticated aura the building gave off. Since the moon was about to make its appearance within the hour, the restaurant had turned on their small white lights to add to the simplicity, yet formality to the atmosphere.

"So what's the purpose of this…outing?" Tobias asks, his eyes drifting towards the Oak tree that stands near the entrance, the same white lights that coats the restaurant winded around the trees trunk and slithered up its branches.

Hanna looked at Zeke, silently ushering him to tell Tobias the purpose of their expensive visit. "We need to have a...discussion…" Zeke frowned, looking at his mother for approval of his choice of words. "About your drinking habits,"

Tobias scoffed, rolling his eyes at their attempt to help him with his "habits". "My drinking habits are none of your concern,"

"You made it my concern when you didn't stop after our weekly outings ended." Zeke retorted, leaning back.

"No, _you_ were putting your nose in other peoples' business."

"So I'm supposed to sit around all day and let you drink yourself to death?" Zeke raised his voice slightly, his fist clenching in irritation. "Because that's the right thing to do right? Right Tobias, that's the right thing to do?"

Tobias stayed silent, wanting to so desperately walk away with a drink in hand. He honestly knew that Zeke was right, as he always was since her passing but he didn't want to admit it. Instead, he prefers to pout around like a four year old and drink like Marcus. He was about to open his mouth when the buzzer buzzed, signaling them that their table is ready.

_Let the fun begin, _he thought glumly as he stalked behind Zeke who was still fuming.

. . .

He read over their selection of liquor, reading the descriptions for each and every one of them. His eyes flickered back and forth across the menu, nodding slightly to what he was reading, a habit that was enforced by Marcus whenever he were to attend school. Nodding your head is your way of showing your teacher that you know what's going on without inconveniencing them and you're fellow students by asking questions. It was something most Abnegation did.

Hanna's fingers appeared over the top of the menu, her freshly painted nails standing out against the crème colored sheet. "Why don't you drink something non-alcoholic tonight?" she asked, gently tugging the menu out of his hands.

"No, I think I should get a drink," he stated bluntly, taking the menu back from her hands. "Besides, you didn't let me finish my beer at home."

Tobias ignored Hanna's sigh and continued reading their liquor selection. His mind was racing, excitement streaming in his blood. He read over some of the beers and wines he knows he likes, but there's a few that caught his eye. He was intrigued, his eyes twinkling in amazement at the assortment they have before settling on a glass of Red Wine.

He ordered his meal along with the wine, listening to the waiter's praise of their liquor. A smile was on his lips as the familiar smell of Vodka, Rum and other alcoholic beverages filled the air. _Maybe, this wasn't-_

"Did you really have to order 'Red Wine'?" Zeke clenched his jaw slightly, clenching and unclenching his fist, a habit he learned after the death of his brother. He found that the more he does it, it helps him control wanting to lash out verbally and on very rare occasions, physically, at that person.

"Would you prefer me to order some 'Rum' or perhaps a 'Budlight'?" he asks, faking a British accent. _British accents work best in this type of situation, _he made a mental note in his head while he watched Zeke's face fume, turning bright red as he bit his tongue to hold back his snarky remarks.

"I would prefer you to order water, or even a 'Coke' would be fine. I would've thrown you a party if you did!"

"Yes, because I wish to spend my days attending Zeke's parties that will celebrate my choosing of 'Coca-Cola' products over liquor to only attend a party that will contain liquor itself,"

"Listen, I don't care if you want the party or not. That was a joke. The point is you need to get your drinking under control. You're lashing out more often now, getting drunk every day. I would come over and check on you only to find bile spreading across the tile floor slowly while you lied passed out, hung over on the couch." Zeke lowered his voice, narrowing his eyes to show that he was serious.

"So what I pass out on the couch, we all do it at times." Was Tobias' defense.

"Not every night Tobias,"

"I don't crash on the couch on every night,"

"The floor in the middle of the hallway doesn't count either."

Tobias stayed quiet, eyeing his Red Wine. He wanted to take a sip, to let the liquid melt the stress of this conversation away. He wanted to so desperately drink the rest of it, savoring the taste against his tongue, sweet but slightly sour **(Is that right? I don't drink, I'm not even old enough too)**. He was addicted to it, the relief it gave him, taking the weight of the world off his shoulders.

Hanna spoke next, gently grasping his hand. "You need to end your addiction."

Tobias looked at her fingers. They were long and slender, wrinkles coating the skin. Her nails were long and sharpened at the end with the branches of a Cherry Blossom tree extending over the nail and standing out against her tan skin. Tobias heaved a sigh, chewing on the inside of his lower lip slightly before pulling his hand away from Hanna's tender grip. "I can't."

"Why?"

He looked down, lacing and unlacing his fingers together in his lap. "It's…it's my stress reliever,"

"Can you find a new one?" Hanna asked gently, quietly urging him to give into her coaxing.

"Like what?"

"Zeke used to tell me stories about your guys' initiation. Apparently you were amazing at knife-throwing. Why don't you use that old talent as your stress reliever?"

Tobias' eyes screwed shut at the mention of knife-throwing. Tears poked the corner of his eyelids as he tried to push the memory of that day in initiation where he threw knives at her head, away, far, far away where it could never come back. _"Eyes open Sitff," _was what he told her and what he's currently telling himself. _Come on, it's been five years and even the slightest mention of her makes you want to bawl! Man up! Be Dauntless! _

"I'm sorry…did I say something?" Hanna furrowed her eyebrows, looking between her son who was currently shaking his head at her suggestion, and Tobias who now has his palms pressed against his eyelids.

Tobias shook his head, applying more pressure to his close lids. He didn't trust his voice not to crack and for the tears to subside so he sat there, with his hands to his eyelids and his mouth pressed into a thin line. _Take a drink! Maybe that'll help! _He opened his eyes, avoiding looking in Hanna and Zeke's direction as he grabbed his glass of wine, sliding it against the table.

He hears Zeke's sigh as he slowly brings the glass to his mouth, closing his eyes to relish in the liquid. Slowly, the dark red substance flows into his mouth, greeting his taste-buds' with a warm hello before moving its way down his throat, continuing with its introduction.

He basked in its taste, in the escape from reality before Zeke's voice interrupted his small moment of relief.

"You need to move on."

**AN: To anyone reading this, like it or not I will keep writing. I don't care if the only review I have is from Tris Ela Eaton (thanks by the way). I will continue writing this fanfic, hopefully my writing will improve and etc. But onto more important news, (especially if you're a kpoper and enjoy "Sistar"'s music) "I Swear" is out! And I'm obsessed. It's really bad.**


	3. You Die, I Die Too

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy", its characters, setting, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fanmade with no profit being made whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**Two – You Die, I Die Too**

"You need to move on."

Tobias sputtered, his wine spilling out of his mouth and all over his shirt. He coughs, the rest of the liquid spilling out of his mouth as he leans over the table, Zeke's hand at his back, slapping it. The restaurant employee's rushed to his aid, a waitress bringing over water for him to drink.

His throat burns as he coughs one last time, inhaling deeply as Hanna puts the plastic cup of water to his mouth. Waiters and waitress' surround him, asking if he's ok, what had happened. "Enough, he needs to breathe." Hanna holds her hands up, standing up as she motions the employee's away.

Slowly, the workers back away, eyeing Tobias carefully as they return to their jobs. Costumers slowly return back to their own meals, turning their heads in his direction every couple of seconds, whispering about him.

Tobias puts the cup back down on the table, grasping the cuffs of his sweatshirt as he tries to regain control of his labored breathing. His fingers cramped as he clung to his cuffs, trying to process what Zeke has said. _"You need to move on." _

_ No! I can't! I love her! _He so desperately wanted to scream, to scream and cry, trying to push away the thought of moving on…away from Tris. His heart was beating rapidly as shut his eyes, tears forming once more. He shook his head, trying to rid Zeke's words from his head, trying to rid every thought of living with someone else who is not Tris.

"No, no. No, no, no." he whispered, biting his full lower lip as he struggled to keep the monsters at bay.

"Tobias? Tobias what's wrong?" Hanna grew worried, standing up once more and moving closer to his side. She set her hand gently on his back, slightly above the Amity tree that marks his back along with the other four factions.

"No. No. No, no, no, no." his whispers were coming out of his mouth faster than before. The alcohol in his system long forgotten, all of his previous beverages doing nothing to help his speech slow down. His words were fast and clear instead of the slow slurred ones Hanna and Zeke are accustomed too.

"No for what? No water? No wine? What is it?"

"I can't do this anymore." Tobias removed his hands from his eyes for what feels like the fiftieth time that night and stood up, Hanna's hand falling off of his back.

The chair glided against the carpet, allowing him to leave his spot from the table. Hanna stood up from her positon on the floor, her skirt falling just past her knee's as she grabbed hold on his arm, her thumb pressing into his elbow. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know." He tugged his arm out of her grasp, walking out of the restaurant swiftly. It felt as if all eyes were on him, as if all conversation was now directed and made about him.

The sun had set and the cooler air of the night clung to him. The muggy-ness of earlier in the day has disappeared, leaving behind a massive rain cloud that begins to rumble with thunder.

Tobias walked in the opposite direction of the parking lot, now realizing his only way of transportation is by walking, considering the nearest bus stop is in the opposite direction his mind desires to go.

. . .

He sits with his back against the fence, the dirt road he had traveled on the day of her death underneath him. His head was resting on his knees, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, succeeding in shrinking in size slightly.

Since her death, Tobias has used this positon almost as often as he did when he was a young boy, listening to his parents' altercations and the loud cries that had escaped his mother's mouth from the small closet upstairs. He was just a young boy, a young boy with scars marking his small back when he had first started using the position. Now, he's a grown man with scars that will never heal.

"Why did you have to go?" he whispered, peaking his head out slightly. "Why couldn't you have stayed with me?"

He let his hand fall off of his leg, landing in the dirt. His finger began drawing out her name, writing it in cursive, then in a messy print before it erasing it and starting all over again.

"Why did you go?" he whispered once more, finishing the 's' in her name.

He let go of his legs, relaxing his muscles as he leans against the cold metal structure that had kept him hidden from the rest of the world for eighteen years. His eyes were drooping, a yawn escaping his lips as the weight of the day landed on his shoulders, clinging to him, refusing to let him go.

Fatigue was overclouding his vision, his eyelids dropping multiple times as he cocks his head toward the night sky. Shauna had once told him that her mother used to tell her stories of her late grandfather, about how when he died he lived peacefully in the clouds, where everything was perfect.

A smile was on his face, a sad one but still, it was a smile. He imagined Tris was up there at first, laughing with Will, mending her relationship with Al and even residing in the comfort of her parents' arms.

There was a car horn in the distance, the headlights of the car growing brighter, showing his fatigue body. The horn sounded again, and again, the driver pushing harder and harder, his palm slapping against the steering wheel as the brake refused to work.

Tobias looked at the truck, the horn blaring in his ears. He stared at the white lights of the vehicle as it grew nearer, the horn screaming at him to move. He can see the driver's strained face, desperately pulling the jake break. Beads of sweat prickled on his forehead, as he gave up and put both hands back on the wheel almost a few inches away from Tobias' body.

He saw the driver turn the wheel, turning it to the left, making him and the truck almost perfectly aligned. The driver's mouth was moving as the lights were in front of him, and the horn in his ears once more as he felt the impact of the truck against his body, trapping him against the wall and front of the truck. A loud _crash! _filled the air, smoke rising from the wreck.

Tobias' eyes closed, a smile on his face as one sentence replayed over and over in his mind. _You die, I die too._

**AN: Omg we got up to seven reviews the last chapter! Thanks to Tris Ela Eaton for sticking for this story, postrockernet for your kind encouragement, SaltySloth for correcting me (thanks for that by the way), .write. for your awesome review (and your awesome penname), Guest for your kind encouragement and trispri0r for even clicking on this story! Thanks to all of you.**

**On a side note, I might not update for a while. School is…well school and I'm going away for the weekend. I'll try and squeeze in an update, reviews or not. **


	4. Wishing and Hoping

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy", its characters, setting, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fanmade with no profit being made whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**AN: If you are sensitive to attempted suicide (or suicide in general), please know I am in no way or form mocking those who have committed or have tried to commit. I know people who have done it and have had personal experiences with suicide. Please do not take offense to this chapter. **

**Three – Wishing and Hoping**

Tobias sat up, gasping as his hands flew up to his chest. Beads up sweat trickled down his forehead as he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in the hallway that leads to his bedroom, empty bottles of beer and a number of other bottles littered the floor, some of its contents staining his crème colored tile floor.

He shouted, a loud cry escaping his mouth as tears poured out of his eyes. He picked up and empty bottle, swinging it around until it crashed into the wall, shattering in his hands. "You were this close Tobias!" he shouted at himself, tugging at his long, matted hair. "You were this close to seeing her!"

More sobs escaped his spare upper lip and full lower one, snot threating to make their presence nose by sticking out of one his hooked nostrils. His deep blue eyes were clouded by tears, each one spilling onto his tan cheeks faster than the one before. There was a deep ache in his chest, one that not even his alcohol can take away, no matter how much he wished and hoped. "Why?" his voice was hoarse as he sobbed, cracking at the end of his plea.

Tobias sobbed some more, rocking back and forth as the tears rushed out of his eyes, forming a river down his cheeks. "This close!" He shouted once more, looking up at the ceiling. "I hope your happy Tris! Is this what you wanted to accomplish? To make me suffer? If that's what it was consider it done!" he broke off in a sob, crawling into a fetal position.

He cried, spilling all of his unspoken secrets out through his tears. No amount of pain could compare to the one he was feeling at this very moment, not even when he woke up that fateful morning to an empty bed. He didn't even feel this much pain when he thought the Erudite were about to kill Tris. And that had killed him.

Tobias stood up, tears still flowing out of his eyes and the ache in his chest spreading throughout his entire being. He wobbled, tripping over his own feet as he tried to reach his bedroom. Choked sobs clogged his throat, suffocating until he releases them.

Stumbling through his bedroom and tripping over the clothes that littered the floor, Tobias made it to his bathroom. His shower curtain was still pulled back, the water that had dripped on the floor now gone. His towel was thrown carelessly across the floor, now completely dry. The mirror that was once clouded with fog is now clear as day, exposing his appearance.

His eyes were red, water still forming at the bottom and spilling out the side. Dirt from the previous day had mixed in with his tears, leaving behind a dirty trail that had stained his cheeks. His hair was sticking up in multiple directions, each strand following its own path. His lips were dry and cracked, exposing his lack of care for himself.

_Why did you let yourself fall apart?_ Is what he hopes Tris would say when he died. _Why didn't you take care of yourself? _But there was always the sick, twisted part of him that would always retort with an _I wouldn't have fallen apart if you didn't die. _Of course, he knows he would never say that, well at least he hopes he wouldn't. It's just how he feels and how he thinks.

Tobias open the medicine cabinet, starring at the unopened bottle of pills. His name was printed nicely on the orange bottle, the white cap screwed on tightly. His doctor had prescribed them to him, trusting Tobias to take them as prescribed.

His mind was gone, wandering aimlessly in space. All Tobias was focused on was the bottle, trying to decide _how _he wants his pain to end. He licked his dry lips, swallowing the lump in his throat as the fear started to bubble in his lower stomach. He hadn't been in his fear landscape since the day he spread her ashes, but he's sure he doesn't have four fears anymore.

_Don't be stupid, _he chastised himself, _it'll be over before you know it, right? _He shook his head, closing his eyes as he ignored the thoughts in the back of his head that were floating around his empty skull. _And once it's over, your pain will be over. _Tobias nodded to his thoughts, opening the thoughts as he inhaled one last time, hopping for it to be his last breath.

Tobias unscrewed the cap, opening his eyes to marvel at the orange bottles contents. Numerous amounts of pills peered up at him as he took in the white coating, noticing every small detail that the naked eye can fathom.

He turned the bottle upside down in his hand, the pills falling out of their container. His calloused palm meets the tiny pills, each one pilling on top of the other until they can no longer balance on their support and landing in his palm. Some of the white oval medications had wedged themselves in between others, sticking out slightly in the palm of his hand.

_Just get it over with Tobias. Ignore your fear, pretend it's not there. _Tobias closed his eyes, deciding _now _he'll take his final breath. Tilting his back, Tobias brought the palm of his hand to his mouth, letting the pills fall into his wide-opened mouth.

He closed his mouth, opening his eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. _Good-bye_, he thought before swallowing as many pills as he could.

**AN: We didn't go out of town and I am really, really, really trying to delay math homework as much as possible. Thank you to postrockernet, SaltySloth, and tammygirl1432 for reviewing this story. I apologize to .write because your penname decided to be cut off during the chapter posting process.**

**Anyways, I feel like I bore you guys with my author's notes. One day, I'm going to put a whole bunch of gibberish but sneak real words in there just to see who reads my awful notes. And then, I get so embarrassed whenever I update this story or "Little Me" because I a.) have no picture (I really don't see the need for a cover picture, it's fanfiction, not a real book) b.) my writing style is different and not as great as other authors and c.) I just get embarrassed really easily. **

**Oh well, like this chapter or no? And we got ten reviews! I'm so happy! Anyways, sorry for the ridiculously long rant, you guys probably stopped reading this along time ago. **


	5. That Fine Line

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy" its characters, setting, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fanmade with no profit being made from this whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**AN: I am in no way, shape or form mocking the homeless. I find their situation unfortunate and wish that none of us should ever have to go through the hardships to end up in their current situation. I am in no way mocking stereotypes or the homeless and if you feel that I am you may leave this story and find another one. Is it me, or does anyone else hate stereotypes too?**

**Four – That Fine Line**

Tobias swallowed two pills before spitting the rest of them out. The white oval medications flew out of his mouth, thumping against the counter and falling onto the floor. He gasped, starring at himself in the mirror as he tried to process what he just attempted. His eyes were wide in shock, still trying to fathom everything that had happened in the past few seconds.

"Oh…" he trailed off, not knowing what to say for his actions.

He inhaled, trying to force the air into his lungs. The pills that were in his mouth are now coated in saliva and other juices the mouth produces and were lying limply on his cold bathroom floor. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, trying to blink away the tears as the reality set in on what he had tried to accomplish. _You tried to kill yourself… _his thoughts trailed off.

There was a fine line between being brave and being an idiot. Tobias knew that. He just didn't know which _side _of the line he stood. On his sixteenth birthday seven years ago, he had though he stood on the side where all of the brave people were, all of the Dauntless. But as initiation grew on and stage two was approaching, Tobias had realized the only real "brave" thing he did was jumping off the roof into a mass of nothingness, not sure what will catch him when he lands. He didn't even really want to do that but jumping into a dark whole seemed more ideal than being Factionless right?

Then there were times were he was sure he stood on the idiot side of the line. Drinking by the Chasm all those years ago were just one of the many stupid things he did over the course of his life. And attempting suicide by swallowing most of his medications in one-shot, had definitely stood on the side of idiotic things.

He knew there was a line, it was one of the very first lessons he had to teach with one of his jobs in Dauntless. There were times where the line blurred, but still he knew the line was there. He knew that they're two sides of the line, and that you get to choose which side of the line you want to stand on and he knew that your own actions also determine which side of the line he stands on…he just loses the clear direction of that line.

Tobias was pretty sure he stood on the cowardly side of things right now. He was also pretty sure that he had been standing on that side for the past five or so years. There were times when he convinced himself that he was once a brave man. He thought he was brave when he chose to stay in Dauntless to pursue a girl he wasn't even sure had liked him back…or had found him in the least bit _intriguing_. And, maybe he was, but…that's where things got confusing and the line had blurred. If going after a girl was brave, what was cowardly?

Of course, Tobias knew what was cowardly in that situation but…he, for some unknown reason he cannot fathom why he had even _thought _about killing himself. So, as he stares at himself in the mirror, pressing the palm of his hands to the edge of the counter tops, he knows, that he had just _permanently _marked himself a coward. He stared at himself in the mirror, swallowing the lump in his throat. There wasn't anything _brave _about him…at least not anymore.

Now…now he didn't know what to do. He quit his job for Johanna, tired of Hanna and Evelyn making Johanna monitor him closely. He's now working, full time at a grocery store, barely working but enough to earn the money he needs to pay for his rent and his liquor. If it were up to him, he would seriously just stop working all together and live on the streets, maybe roaming around every once in a while to find something to shut his growling stomach up but other than that, he's sure he'll just become a stereotypical homeless man.

Tobias turned on the faucet, letting the water run. Zeke had told him he did that a few days after they unplugged Uriah. He had told him that it just helped him clear his mine, watching the pure water flow from the silver tap. According to him, the water made him feel relaxed, and well…pure. So, Tobias leaned against the counter top, watching the water flow from its silver tap and listening to its rushing waters. A few stray water droplets' splashed onto his cheeks, making the dry tear tracks damp again. Tobias sighed, starring intently at the waters and being reminded of the many _painful _memories he has there. His shoulders slouched and he arched his back slightly, the peak of his tattoo poking out of his shirt once more. "Let's see if this works," he said softly, desperate to find a distraction about that fine line he has crossed too many times to count.

**AN: Omg guys we got up to 18 reviews! Oh my- just…THANK YOU! Like thank you so much! Your reviews mean the world to me especially since I'm in a dark place right now. I finished my homework in school and I you guys made me so happy that I thought this was the least I could do. All though it's short, and kind of umm suckish, it's pretty good for functioning on three and half hours of sleep and dealing with a migraine. And looking back on past chapters (which sucked tremendously) I think this is an improvement. What did you guys think?**

**Thank you to the following people for reviewing:**

** postrockernet**

** bpaulus**

** ellie2297**

** SaltySloth**

** sushi8162**

** Divergentfan6146**

** SelfDestructIn54321**

** Tammygirl1432**


	6. Numbness

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy", its characters, setting, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fanmade with no profit being made whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**Five – Numbness**

There was no aching in his chest.

There was no pain wracking his body.

There was no tears spilling out of his eyes.

There were no sobs that clawed their way out of his throat.

There was nothing.

He sat on the floor, lacing and unlacing his fingers together, imagining his left hand was Tris'. What Zeke had said had worked, not only letting his mind slip from reality but letting all of his unspoken emotions speak their piece through the water, changing the temperature and it's pressure by moving the glass replica up and down, side-to-side, based on what he was feeling.

Now, there was no emotion.

No regret.

No anger.

No pain.

No sorrow.

No grief.

There was nothing.

Tobias didn't know what to do. For the past five years he's lived with so much emotion that it consumed him, eating his mind and hacking his thoughts to think in the way he did. It made him drink until he couldn't feel anything, couldn't hear the sound of Tris' voice in his head, couldn't hear the sound of Zeke and Hanna's voice trying to help him. He drank, he drank so much that he forget what it was like to not feel anything. To not know what to do.

Now, his eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to decipher what to do with himself. For the first time in five years, drinking didn't seem appealing to him. For the first time in five years, he didn't even want to look at all of his empty bottles and cans. He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

There was a little voice in the back of his head, one that was soft and…feminine. _Clean it up if you don't want to look at it, _he chewed on his cracked lips, capturing a dry piece between his teeth and ripping it off his lip as the voice continued nagging at him. _Why leave it there if you don't even want to __think __about it? _

What the voice was saying was true. Why keep it there if you didn't want it there? Why keep it there when the smell was still working its way up your nostrils and making your stomach churn? Tobias leaned his against the wall, closing his eyes. Exhaustion was nagging at his body, clinging to him like _he _was a lifeline. The alcohol that was normally in his system had brought horrid, vivid dreams of the past, memories that he had shoved back in the deepest part of his brain, had become alive and had terrorized him.

Most of those memories were from his childhood and some were from the time he spent with Tris…and the Reckless Tris. He knew he loved both Tris', just…not Reckless Tris' actions. He loved Tris, the one who was both selfless and brave while using her smarts. He loved the Tris who would stand up for her coward of her friend, who would fight back with the fierce, daunting spark in her eyes.

Reckless Tris, was well…reckless. She lived up to her name. She was being stupidly selfless, being thrown into the mixed of unnecessary danger because she was too selfless. No, because she was grief stricken and the weight of her actions had landed on her so heavily, it knocked something so…unnerving into her.

It had scared him.

Until he realized it.

He had tried to help but after her brushing off his threats, he knew it was no use and just gave up on her trying not commit suicide for being "selfless". He didn't give up on the other Tris, because he knew, that somewhere, Tris was fighting like a rabid animal, clawing at the chains Reckless Tris has placed on her. He knew that Tris would be back, and she would start using her wits, her bravery and her selflessness in the correct way…even in the most dangerous situations.

But she had died before he could see Tris break free.

Maybe that's what killed him. The fact that he had spent so much time with Reckless Tris and not with Tris was just unnerving. He didn't know…what to feel when it came down to it. Was he supposed to be happy that now, now she could be with her family and friends while Reckless Tris was banished to someplace sick and feared? Was he supposed to regret the time he did spent with Reckless Tris? Or was he supposed to miss both Tris', because when it comes down to it,

It was still Tris.

And he still loves Tris. Both of them.

But, he's an alcoholic.

And he's technically diagnosed with Severe Depression.

And…he's numb. He can't think. He can't feel. He's not in control.

The part of his brain that wants to fill this empty numbness with something that'll make him feel different is urging for him to get off the floor and grab a beer out of the fridge. The other part of his brain that contains _Tobias_ is coaxing him into getting off of the floor, to start cleaning up the mess he made.

But, he's numb.

And at war.

How is he supposed to clean up a mess that will only come back within the next seventy-two hours?

How is he supposed to start drinking if there is no pain that needs to be put away?

Tobias sighed, closing his eyes as he gave into the exhaustion, tuning out of the two bickering sides of his brain. The exhaustion had took its toll, leaving behind in its wake a numb Tobias. A Tobias that didn't know what to do. A Tobias that didn't _want _to do anything.

A Tobias,

That was numb.

**AN: Hi guys. My life decided to go on hold today and I thought why not? We're up to 25 reviews and thanks for the nice encouragement. I think, like I'm 95% sure I'm giving up "Little Me". Too much hate. "Sinking" hasn't really received any hate though, which is good. I like writing it. I like writing both of them to be honest. I'm sad to see it go. **

**I'm sorry in advancement. My life…is far from where it used to be. Times are tough for me, and my writing isn't up to par. Well, my teacher and fellow students think so. Unfortunatley, I'm going to fall back again and then yeah. Bye-Bye energy. **

**Thanks to the following for reviewing:**

**crazybooklover7676**

**postrockernet**

**sushi8162**

**tammygirl1432**

**Tris Ela Eaton**

**bpaulus**

**P.S. If you're bookless, an awesome book right now is "Dorothy Must Die" by Danielle Paige. It's really good.**


	7. Escaping Cages

**Disclaimer: I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy" its characters, setting or any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. No profit is being made out of this and all work is completely fan made. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**Six – Escaping Cages**

He thinks he really understood what her death did to him around the time when he had tried to kill himself. He thinks that the whole reason he wanted to die, was to just end the addiction that has consumed him and his being. There was always that longing to see her, to hear her voice one last time, but he all he really wanted was to just escape the addiction that had robbed him of his mind and his values.

So now, as he sits in his bedroom, tossing an empty can of beer in his hands, he tries to understand what he needs to do. There's still the nagging feeling of wanting to feel the burning sensation of alcohol sliding down his throat. But – there's still the small part of his brain that had escaped the horrid cage his addiction has caused on his mind that's telling him to start cleaning up his mess and start getting ready for the shift that he's sure he's almost two hours late for.

Back in the beginning, back when his addiction had first started, he had confided into Zeke about that nagging part of his brain. Zeke had often joked around saying that that nagging in his head was really Tris taking control and yelling at him to start getting his act together. At the time he had laughed at it. At the idea of Tris being in his head, at him having an act to get together.

Now, he can't help but agree with him. _Maybe I'll just name that part after her, _a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. _Maybe that'll be the only piece of her I have left_.

He looks around his disordered room, trying to wonder if he even has an act to get together. He knows there is one, there's just the matter of finding out where it is and how to get it to come together.

He ran his hand through his coarse and greasy hair, tugging at the knots that have matted together. The strands fell onto his head, a few of the longer strands brushing the tip of his ear. It felt weird, now that he wasn't drunk off of the alcohol, the way his hair had brushed against the tip of his ear. He can practically hear Zeke's voice in his head about his new hair-due, his laughter mixing in with his declaration of him being more Dauntless by growing out his dark hair.

Tobias stood up, deciding that maybe the first step of getting his act together might be to start with cutting his hair. Shorter than the Dauntless keep it, but longer than the Abnegation. Tris' favorite.

. . .

Tobias ran a hand through his now shorter hair, satisfied that his hair no longer brushes against his temple and ear. Thick strands of hair lie on the counter and on the floor, the smaller strands of his hair landing on the inside of his street. He set the razor back under his sink, setting it in one of his many untouched baskets towards the back.

He closed the cabinet doors and gathered the hair into the palm of his hand, picking up the thick strands and the thinner ones before dumping it into his palm. His hair slowly fell into the trash, floating in the air before settling on top of his trash. Tobias grabbed the plastic bag, wrapping the handles together and tying a knot before he exited the bathroom.

He walked passed his horrific bedroom and passed the disgusting walls and into the unkempt kitchen. The dishes he had used sit in a pile in the sink, the left-over food remnants sticking to the platter. Crumbs of food cluttered the counter by his refridgereator, a small cluster of ants marching along as they carried away the small food crumbs. His trash was piled high, the lid having to be taken off as the trash no longer fit with it on. The smell of decaying food and the smell of beer that usually stays behind long after the liquid is consumed mixing in with the horrid stench that fills his kitchen. He can't help but wonder how he was oblivious to such a stench for so long.

Tobias set the plastic bag of trash by the trash can. He pressed down on the large pile of trash, grunting as the squeaking of the bag and the sound of glass crunching mingled in the air. The bitter smell of alcohol wafted up his nose and made his inside tingle with warmth as the basked in it…for only a moment before he continues trying to wedge the large amount of trash in the white bag.

He kept one hand on the cardboard box that held a six pack of beer before he pulled on one of the red drawstrings. He then slipped the string on his arm as he traded hands, pulling on the other bright red string. He snatched his hand up before it got caught by the elastic and tied it in a knot, pulling it out of the white trash bin. Tobias picked up the small plastic bag that was in his bathroom and made his way out of his apartment and down the stairs and to the dumpster.

He threw the bags in there, ignoring the confused faces of some of the younger residences and the ones coated in shock from the older faces. "Morning," he greeted Mrs. Gurth, an elderly woman who was concerned when he had stumbled in drunk too many times to be deemed 'normal'.

Mrs. Gurth didn't say anything and Tobias went back to his apartment, climbing the stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached his apartment door in no time and let himself in, ignoring the fact that he had forgotten to lock his door.

He grabbed a trash bag and opened it, moving it up and down rapidly as the air filled the bag, causing it to expand. He wrapped the band around the edge of his trash bin before setting the lid on top. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he looks around the kitchen one last time before his eyes settle on the plastic solo cups he never uses anymore. Tobias found that drinking out of the bottle gets the liquid down your throat faster than pouring it in the cup.

Biting his lower lip, Tobias looked at the pile of dishes in his sink and the ants crawling down his cabinets and in between the dark corners of his kitchen. His stomach ached for the bitter liquid to slowly make its way into the acidic juices, the taste buds on his tongue craved the bitterness of the alcohol. _Just a couple won't hurt, _he told himself. He took three quick strides towards the refrigerator, pulling on the handle.

There were only two bottles left sitting on the shelf, unopened and untouched. He reached out, wrapping his hand around the brown bottle before he popped the cap and took a sip. His taste buds were satisfied and his stomach welcomed the liquid with open arms but his mind was on a completely different track. It was screaming at him to stop before he continues drinking, the other side of his brain etched in confusion. He wanted the liquid, and he wanted to change.

Tobias knew that he wanted to get better, but he still kept taking sips of the beer. Eventually, that beer was finished, and then the other one was opened. And then that one was finished. Then, he was left in the utmost confusion that is him. With nothing left to drink and the desire to get better, or somewhat better, Tobias looked at the pile of dishes and the mass of ants. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he had escaped one out of the many cages his addiction had placed on his mind.

But he also knows that he has a long way to go.

And maybe, just maybe, he thinks he can do it.

**AN: I'm back. And I'm better. We went to the ER once more, and they gave me some medicine that was stronger than morphine 0_0. My mom made fun of me because I was really giggly and bubbly and happy before I started crying in pain. Oh well, I got my weight under control, still underweight but I'm eating at least a meal a day. So, yeah. All though my health is getting better, my personal issues aren't. *sighs* how was this chapter? I felt Tobias moved a little too fast with the whole 'shaking off the addiction' thing, but do you ever really get over the addiction? I don't think so. I think the mind is tricked into thinking that it's over the addiction but nagging and wanting for your addiction is always still there, but the mind is tricked into not recognizing it. And I just realized how stupid that sounds. Oh well. I might update again later today after I finish homework and stuff. **


	8. Wanting Strength

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy" its setting, characters, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fan-made with no profit being made from this whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**Seven – Wanting Strength **

It was trial and error for Tobias for the next few days. He gave into his helpless needs a couple times after work when he was so drained emotionally and physically that he just needed a distraction – thus resulting in buying another box of beer. But there'd be times where he would flip on the television he didn't know still worked and tried to drown himself in the never ending flashes of light.

He had reached out to Zeke again. He didn't expect to feel the flutter of happiness in his stomach when he heard Zeke's stupid catch phrase into the receiver. Tobias didn't expect to miss his dirty jokes and his heartfelt small talks of encouragement. He didn't expect to feel the pang of jealousy and hurt when he heard that Zeke and Shauna were engaged, the Shauna was learning how to maneuver around in her wheel chair with more ease and that she feels confident in herself – something that was taken away from her that fateful night all those years ago.

When Tobias was asked how he was doing he hesitated. How was he supposed to tell his friend that he went spiraling down into this bottomless pit and has decided to try and climb out of it with no resources what-so-ever? Tobias had slowly let the information slip out of his mouth, holding back on how bad his addiction was exactly. He winced when he heard the silence on Zeke's side and the slight crack in his voice as he said, "I'm sorry for helping you with your addiction."

Tobias had to hang up the phone after that. He never blamed Zeke for "helping" him with his addiction. If anything, he hadn't even thought about Zeke as a possible culprit from one of the many trigger factors of his death. He had only blamed the childhood he refuses to relive and the death of the woman he loves. Even with Zeke's confession, Tobias still refused to believe that Zeke had anything to do with the alcohol addiction.

Sure, the two of them spent every Friday night in Pub. Sure, they both drank until they passed out. Tobias didn't see how that related to his alcoholism. In fact, he was the one who even brought the idea up to him all those years ago. If Tobias wouldn't have suggested the idea, they both wouldn't have gone and the addiction might not have started then. Maybe, in some alternate universe, the addiction wouldn't have started at all.

Tobias sighed, dropping his head on the counter by the wall phone. Numerous thoughts ran through his head, clouding his thoughts and judgement. The normal pang of need ran throughout his body, making his hand reach out towards the refrigerator, the muscles in his hand have memorized the movement. It's kind of like playing the violin, once you learn where to place your fingers on the neck of the instrument, your fingers automatically land on the strings without the violinist even realizing it.

Maybe that's how Tobias sees himself. As a violinist. Except, with alcohol. His bitter liquids are the strings. His fingers, well, they're just his fingers. Tobias relies on the muscle memory of his fingers to grasp the container that contains his mind desires. And when he succeeds in grabbing it, he succeeded in landing in the right spots. And when he succeeds in swallowing it and forgetting everything, he succeeded in playing the tone, the tempo and the note all correctly.

But, he also knows that no good violinist – or anyone who does something – can become good overnight. Tobias knows that it takes hours of hard-work and determination to get to be one of the best. He also knows that it takes strength – with the stress from life can become such a huge burden that it takes a lot of strength to keep pursing their extracurricular activity.

If anything, Tobias wants that strength.

Tobias stood up from his place at the counter, walking to the refrigerator to grab a can of beer. His hand coils around the handle of bulky white box, and he questions his wants and desires. _Do you really want to drink tonight? Is it really worth it? _

He paused. His hand still rested on the handle bar of the insulated box and he really wonders if he should drink tonight. The only thing he really wants to forget is the last few seconds of his conversation with Zeke and the thoughts that justify his actions. His thoughts were not only cowardly for _modifying _something that has ruined not only his health, but his _mindset_. And it didn't stop there, he's wanting to drink because he doesn't want to face the reality of life.

Over a small problem.

So now, as his gaze settles on his hand, he doubts whether or not he's brave, if he's strong….

Dauntless.

Every time he has these thoughts, it always leads back to Dauntless. Then it leads to _her_….

Tobias shook his head, closing his eyes as he pushed back every memory, thought, her voice, the way she smelled….

He closed his eyes and pulled open the door. A waft of cold air and the low hum of fridge begin as he scans the shelves. The open box of canned beer lies with two bottles peeking its way through the green cardboard. But he wasn't in the mood for beer. He wasn't in the mood for anything that he has – which wasn't much; an unopened bottle of _Vodka _and a _Shirley Temple _one of his female coworkers had shoved in his hands.

Tobias sighed once more and closed his eyes.

Drawing the diminutive amount of strength he has left, Tobias closed the door to his refrigerator and he knows that he can still be like the violinist. He knows, that in a different universe – no, in this universe – he knows that he had mastered one of the hardest pieces known to man.

Saying no the addiction.

**A/N: Thank you to the following people for reviewing the last two chapters.**

** bpaulus**

** SelfDestructIn54321**

** sushi8162**

** Dancer4Eternity**

**So….I'm thinking about putting this story on hiatus. Someone told me that I must have no life because I tend to update as much as I do. Plus, this story is coming to an end shortly, maybe they'll be a sequel I don't know. *sighs* I can't begin to explain to you how much I love writing but…not when different people keep PMing me about the smallest things. Like I don't get enough of that already. **

** Just stay lovely, ok?**

** If you need book recommendation a really good series is the 'Legend' series by Marie Lu. After 'Dorothy Must Die' I can never look at 'The Wizard of Oz' costumes or watch the movie or read the book without yelling to the air about how wrong the story is. *sighs* book problems. **


	9. Triggers

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy" its setting, characters, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fan-made with no profit being made from this whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**A/N: So I had this awesome chapter planned out from where Tobias is at work and some lady brings up the war and it triggers him. But then I realized. They reset the memory of the Bureau. How would the nation of America know if the people who run the experiment have no memory of it what-so-ever? Hopefully this is a nice substitute.**

**Eight – Triggers**

There's always one thing that sets a person on the road to recovery off the edge.

They're known as triggers.

For Tobias, that trigger was Christina.

She had shown up at his apartment while he was at work. She didn't know the hours he worked so she had just showed up around noon, hoping that she either hadn't missed him or that he'll come home early. Tobias was startled when he saw Christina with her legs outstretched, the wrapper from the burger she was eating resting in her lap. French Fries was spilled across the red and white wrapper and her soft drink sat right next to her. She had lifted her food off of her before she jumped up.

Tobias ushered her in, blushing slightly as a look of disgust came across her features slightly. But she quickly ushered it away and took a seat at the bar. Tobias cleared away the disregarded clothing and empty cans and bottles by shoving it behind any piece of furniture he can find. Christina pretended not to notice, biting her tongue so she won't say something rude. A habit she has yet to break.

"How are you?" Christina sets her bag of food down on the counter, sitting on the bar stool.

He shrugged.

"Seriously Four. How are you?" Tobias wants to laugh at the use of his nickname. After all, Christina never felt comfortable calling him by his birth name, it felt odd when it struggled to roll of her tongue. And, she's convinced 'Four' suits him better than 'Tobias' ever would.

Tobias hopped onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs as he felt Christina's gaze on him. He really didn't want to talk to his ex-initiate about how he's doing, it felt wrong. It felt like an invasion of privacy, because he never really liked Christina. He just tolerated her for Tris' sake. If it wasn't for Tris, he's sure he would have left her with a gunshot wound in her leg under Evelyn's rule.

Sighing, Tobias shrugged his shoulders once more before he turned to the small pile of dishes that has piled up. Since he cut his hair, it seemed as if it that one small act of defiance against the addiction had sparked a bigger flame. That flame, is slowly leading to a revolution.

Or so he hopes.

After all, with Christina sitting in front of him it brings back all of the memories he had with his late lover. From their first kiss down at the bottom of the Chasm to her lying limp and cold on the metal table as they begged and pleaded for her to come back. And with the memories comes pain and longing and with those feelings comes with the feeling of drowning – drowning in the pain and the memories – before he loses it and grabs his alcohol.

"Ok."

"Ok?" Christina stopped eating and narrowed her eyes, examining Tobias.

"Ok."

So, now Tobias was 'ok'. Right now, he's anything but ok. There's this organ in his chest that's squeezed tightly, almost as if a large pair of hands is wrapped around it and strangling the large organ out of life. Because of it, he can't breathe, he can't think. He can't function.

It's as if he's in his fear landscape.

He breathed and shut his eyes. If Christina wasn't here he's sure he wouldn't be feeling this way. Now he's starting to doubt if he's actually strong enough to pull through this, to pull through everything. He's wondering if he should give up and give in to the addiction.

Because he's sure, if he did, things would have been a whole lot easier.

"How's your job?" in his haze, Tobias had forgotten Christina was there.

"My job is none of your concern."

Christina rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. Tobias keeps his eyes close, his head hanging between his shoulders. His hand grip the counter top, the knuckles and the skin around it turning a pale shade of white. There was tension in his muscles, the veins in his neck sticking out. Normally, if a vein were to stick out in the typical man it would look unattractive, but Tobias was Dauntless. He's not ripped with muscles but he has a nice layer of them packed onto this skin. Christina would have flirted with him if he wasn't her ex-instructor and her late best friends boyfriend.

There's a sigh before Christina speaks up. "Zeke told me about your addiction."

And that's it.

He stopped breathing.

For a moment.

There was anger. There was hurt and betrayal. He had hoped that he didn't need to tell Zeke not to discuss his state with anyone else, considering that's how most of their conversations were. It was this unspoken agreement the two of them had that they've always abided by. But, he probably should have seen this coming. Zeke would have told Christina, the closest person from the Chicago experiment that is close to him, about him and sent her to send him to get help.

He had always knew that anyone who knew about Tris' death knew what his death had done to him. He's sure that Evelyn and Johanna would have tip-toed around the subject of his addiction to spare not only him the humiliation, but themselves as well. It's possible that Christina had an idea about his addiction but he's positive that she didn't know the extent of it.

"And?" the word was wheezed out of him, a small rasp of air that had carried the word in between the air between them.

"And? Do you think she would want this for you? Do you think this is how she would want you to live your life?" Christina raised her eyebrows, her palms turned right side up, while she urged him to answer her questions.

"Well she's not here so she doesn't have a say in how I run my life."

As soon as the words were out he knew how big of a lie that was.

Even after she's dead she's still affecting her. If anything, her death had affected his life more than her presence had. He hoped that if she were still here, alive and thriving, that he wouldn't be like this. That he wouldn't be the train wreck that he is and that he wouldn't want the bitterness of alcohol to burn his throat as if slowly greets his stomach. He's sure that if he were to go to a doctor now that they would tell him something was wrong with one of his internal organs and that he would need surgery or something. He's been drinking for several years, of course something's going to be wrong.

And he can't help but wonder that in an alternate universe, in a place where they had both escaped the war with their lives that he wouldn't be like this. That he would be living with Tris, possibly even married to her. He wondered if they would both overcome their fears and raise a family. A child with her hair and his eyes, another with her stubborn attitude along with her cunning bravery. It's something he had hoped, but wasn't too sure of happening. She's afraid of intimacy – that he was going to reject her when he would worship her – and he's afraid of becoming his father.

"That's a load of crap."

He sighs. "What do you want me to say Christina?"

He rubs his hands up and down his face. He wanted nothing more too pop open a can of beer and drink them until he passed out drunk. He wanted Christina to leave and he wanted to escape reality. The same thing he did before he almost committed suicide. Right now, he's scolding himself mentally for chickening out of the act. It would save him this talk with Christina and he would hopefully, if the God the Abnegation had discussed on Sunday's that they would both end up in the same place.

"…You can't keep living like this. You have to get yourself together! There's more to life than alcohol and passing out drunk in the middle of your hallway Four! You need to get help." Christina huffed, her face red as she struggles to catch her breath.

Tobias hops off the counter and shook his head. "It's not that easy Christina."

"Sure it is! All you have to do is check into a rehabilitation facility and you're good to go!" Christina stood up now, crossing her arms and stomped her foot. Tobias couldn't help but notice how she's acting like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

"No it's not Christina! Just because you go to a facility doesn't mean you automatically stop drinking! It doesn't mean that it's all rainbows and sunshine! It's the exact opposite! You have to give up the one thing that kept you going when you wanted to be dead! You have to live without the thing that made all of the pain go away, that made the voices in your head mute! The alcohol that made the memory of her go away – it's not a drug. Not when you're drinking it. It's more of a life line." He finished, his face flushed with anger as he watched Christina's reaction to his words.

He's sure that Christina didn't understand a word that came out of his mouth. He's absolutely sure that Christina thinks he's nuts and needs to be in a facility for his addiction to the addiction. He didn't expect Christina to wrap her arms around his torso and break down crying.

It was awkward for the two. Christina was tall, not as tall as him but tall. Plus, she's his late girlfriends best friend. Christina didn't fit against his body the way Tris does (something he takes as a good thing) and the sounds that come out of his mouth sound animal like. "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I just – you're the closest thing I have to her and I can't lose that."

. . .

Christina left his apartment over an hour ago. Tobias lied sprawled across his couch, a can of beer being tipped into his mouth. The television flashed in front of his face, casting shadows that dance on the wall behind him. He's on his third, or fourth, maybe even fifth can. He drinks it slowly, savoring in the numbing feeling in his chest.

His hand dangled off the side of the couch, gripping the top of the can. He was careful not to drop it, not wanting to clean up the mess on the floor and having to reach across to the coffee table to grab another can of beer. If anything, he's just pulling the trigger on the gun even more as he continues to sip the bitter liquid. The trigger was pulled a lot over the course of today, and now he's loading the gun once more and pulling the trigger.

And right now, he just doesn't care.

**A/N: This was my longest chapter ever! 1,955 words! Oh my goodness! I think this chapter would have been better if I cursed (well the characters at least) but I have a hard time seeing Tobias curse, maybe Christina but if she were to swear I think it would be an accidental curse. Tobias came from Abnegation so I think profound language was frowned upon (if looking in a mirror is imagine the repercussions of swearing in Abnegation, especially with Marcus as a father). **

**Can you guys believe that I can spell 'rehabilitation' but I couldn't spell 'facility'? I had to use spell check for it. *shakes head* Guess what! We have a total of 1,726 views! And 38 reviews! I screamed with happiness! **

**Thank you for your continuous support of this story! We have a few more chapters until it's over and I might do the sequel. **

**Thanks to the following for reviewing:**

**ellie2297**

**Guest**

**postrockernet**

**sushi8162**


	10. Hangovers

**Disclaimer: I am not Veronica Roth which means I do not own "The Divergent Trilogy" its setting, characters, any reference made to "The Divergent Trilogy" etc. All work is purely fan-made with no profit being made from this whatsoever. All rights goes to their rightful owners.**

**A/N: I would like to thank my dad for accidentally getting drunk and inspiring this chapter with his severe hangover. I would also like to thank the stain on the carpet for the stench of throw up and the graphic memories for the description of the way throw up looks. Now, enjoy this ridiculous chapter that my father had to experience. **

**Nine – Hangovers**

When Tobias woke up, he didn't expect to feel a pounding headache. When he woke up, he didn't expect to feel his stomach twist and churn before the vomit spilled onto the floor beside the couch.

When Tobias woke up, he didn't expect to have a hangover.

It would be a funny sight to see if you were looking in from the outside. The bitter aftertaste that vomit tends to leave in your mouth surprises Tobias, causing a sour expression to twist their way into his features. The smell of the vomit on the floor and the smell of his breath was enough to turn his sour expression into one of alarm before his stomach churned once more and more bile spills out of his mouth and onto the floor.

Tobias found that retching caused the splintering headache to hurt more, so he refrains from it. He closes his eyes, knowing that if he were to see what lies on his floor that more bile and more half-digested food would tumble past his lips. The smell also doesn't help, but he can't help it. He needs to breathe, and when he breathes in through his nose he smells it. And when he breathes in through his mouth, he taste it and then he throws up some more.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Tobias is done throwing up. He plops back down on the couch, pinching his nose close and opening his mouth slightly to breathe. The smaller the opening of his mouth is, the less he tastes it. Which, Tobias wants to avoid at all costs.

"Oh my gosh," he breathes. Normally, Tobias would wake up, feel the on-sight of a headache coming on and take a swig or two (which leads to drinking three or more bottles, depending on if he remembers that he has to work) of his alcohol and he'll be good. Over the years, he had forgotten what it was like to have a hangover. He guesses that it has to do with the fact that he hasn't drank as heavily as he did the night before.

Now he's suffering the consequences of drinking too much.

It occurs to him that he can take some sort of over-the-counter drug to ease the pain in his head. It also occurs to him that if he wants that medication to help calm the throbbing sensation in his head, he'll have to go out in broad daylight. He's sure the daylight will make his headache much worse and make his stomach churn. Tobias doesn't want to throw up in the middle of the street, or someone's trash bin.

He groans and turns on his side. The smell of the throw up on the floor is weaving its way into his mouth faster than he wanted it too, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He knows that he should probably get up and brush his teeth to help rid the vulgar flavor. But he's pretty sure that the disgusting concoction on the floor has spread across the floor and is creeping under the sofa.

"I'm going to kill you Christina," he murmurs, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyelids.

. . .

Tobias now was squatted on the couch, gripping the arm rest for balance. He peered over the edge of the couch, wincing as he takes in the sight in front of him. A mix of brown and yellow with chunks of food stain his tile flooring, wrapping around the legs of the sofa. It's now been ten minutes since he threw up and Tobias can't take the awful stench and the horrid taste in his mouth.

The coffee table in front of the couch was a safe distance away. He's sure that if he were to stretch a leg out to the table his foot would reach the middle of the table. So that's what he does. He sticks his barefoot out, ignoring the ludicrous thought of the puke below him suddenly growing a hand that wraps around his ankle and drags him into the puddle below. His toes meet the cold glass, slowly inching their way as far as they can go. His tongue peeks out from his lips, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for you Christina," he breathes before he pulls his leg back.

Tobias stood up now. He now realized how tall he was; his head was in close proximity to the ceiling. "One," he counted down. He couldn't help but feel like he was in an action movie about to take down the bad guy. "Two," he leaned forward, avoiding looking down as much as possible. "Three." He jumped from the couch and onto the coffee table.

He landed on the glass. He turned around, prepared to set his feet on the ground before the coffee table gave out. Glass littered the floor, the legs of the coffee table broken in half, eight pieces of black metal sitting in the vomit. He sighs before glaring at the remains of the table.

"Really?" he asks before standing up. He's careful to avoid the broken glass and the sharp edges of metal.

He just didn't expect to step in his vomit.

"Are you serious?" he breathes, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

. . .

Tobias dried his face off on his sleeve. He made a mental note to buy a small towel to keep at the edge of the sink so he can dry his face off. The stench of vomit still came from the living room and his foot (he had only rinsed the vomit off with water, planning on taking a shower _after _he cleans up the mess in the living room). He took a deep breathe, regretting doing so the moment he smells what came out of his stomach, and began his journey to the living room.

It seemed as if the journey there was the faster than the train he used to ride several years back. Tobias wanted to drag out cleaning the disgusting mess in the living room as long as possible. He'd rather clean the mess filthy in his room than clean the small one in the living room. He's not even sure if he has the right cleaners to clean it up.

He reached the living room and avoiding the mess of glass and chunky liquid fluids. There's a cabinet under the sink where Hanna had stored cleaners for the bathroom, kitchen, living room, etcetera so he's pretty sure he has something in there to clean the floor.

A bottle that has a picture of shinning tile floor on the cover is what catches his eye. He splashes some water into an old bucket that was shoved in the back of the cabinet (he's not sure how Hanna got it to fit back there, the tip of the bucket almost brushed the opening of the cabinet) and the orange solution before dipping the mop into the liquid solution.

"Let's see if this works," Tobias lifted the bucket and walked to the living room, setting it a few feet away from the vomit.

. . .

Tobias flops onto his bed, running his hands over his face. Mopping the vomit alone only seemed to make the situation worse, the vomit getting stuck in the long strands of the mop and the glass mixing in with the rancid solution. It got to the point where Tobias grabbed a plastic back and picked up as much as the liquid-y substance would allow. After that he swept up the glass and threw it away before he lifted the eight pieces of metal that was once four and threw that away as well. He rinsed the mop off in the sink, succeeding in ridding the strands up vomit and glass and he re-mopped the tile floor with the light orange solution.

The smell was still there (both on his foot and on the floor) along with his headache, but the exhaustion that overwhelmed his body won the battle between shower and sleep. "I'm going to murder you Christina," he mumbled once more.

**A/N:sjdflksjflksjfkljadskljdfkljflkjdflajsflkjaslkdfjidjwijfjcnjnfdjikloljdfjdfkljskjslkjfjfkjdfjijkljsaljfkdsjkhadjklfjlkjfkjkdjklfjkjfoiejoisojfdlkadjsfklfjaskfjmuchjlkfjlkfdjkfjikdjfunwkjfkdsjfkljkdsajfkdjfiwrittingdjkldjfkjdkjkjakjfkdjthislfdskjfkalsjfkljdfkljakjowierpifjuchapterkslfjkldfjksdjfkljkasdjfkjfdkjfkjfkmainlyjdflkjflksajdfkljdklfjaslkjfbecausesklfjakljfkljslkfjkldjfklfjkjdfkmyfjdaslkfjlkfsjkaljfatherjskdfjklsdjfkldjkdiddfkljkadsjfkjfdthisjfdklsfjsakjdkridiculousdjflkajsfkljfkljsfksjkljsdlkajfkljfja;ksldjfklasjstuntjsdklfjlskadfjklsdjkljflkjwerioaujfoihimselfdlkfjslkjfkjfkljdflkfjdkajkdfjsjiwejroiandkajsflkjdsakfjlkjfhisjfksljkdljkfjlskbraindjfklajsfkljfdkjfiosjlkdfjowjwasntsdjfkljkldjfkajsdfworkinggjkdsajfkljflkfjandjsklfjsalkfjdklsjfehjsflkjklfdjkklsjslfakdjhelksdfjkadjfkfjakdljforgotjf;lkjfsadjflkfjlkdjfa;kljdfewpiucjhowjdskjflsjfklajfjtojdfkljaslkjkljdf;lcleandjfsksajfdskajfkljfthrowjfdljsaljfjafupjfdalkjfkljupfjalkdsfjlkasjslkdjlkjfdlkjflkdjloldjlfkjskldfjksdfjilfjdlkjkfdwhatkdjdlksajdslfkjdsiddidjfkljkdlajsfyoujklfjdlkasdjfkldfjkljfiwojcthinkjdakljflkajsflkjkladjklj**

**Jfdlkfjkjfkljklfjdalskdjfkthankjdslkjkdlsjflkajflkjyoujfjkaljflkjfldjtojdftjjkljdsfadkljftheweeejaksjflkjfollowingnjskfjkjfddfsjfksdjldfforrrrsdjflkadfjlkjfakljfkljreviewingjflkajdskfljkdfjkdljafjfdklj:**

**postrocknet**

**tammygirl1432**


	11. Broken Locks

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

**AN: Don't expect frequent updates. This chapter is full of playful banter between Christina and Tobias. But, the two will **_**never**_ **become an item. That's just weird. If you actually read the chapter, you will understand the title too. **

**Ten – Broken Locks**

Several weeks after being hung-over, Tobias came home from work, massaging knots out of his neck. His neck hurt from tilting his head down to look at the screens and his fingers were cramping from grasping the boxes and sliding them across the scanner. His stomach was growling and yet he was nauseated. _Google _says it's from detoxing, Tobias says it's because he needs to eat.

The alcohol supply in his refrigerator wasn't rapidly diminishing like it used to, now it's decreasing at a steady rate of three bottles per week. He's extremely proud of himself; the need to restock whenever he finds less than six cans left has ebbed to a moment of panic and quick one over of his kitchen before he closes his eyes and breathes. It was a better than driving to the nearest liquor store drunk, and possibly end the life of an innocent driver, and he knew it was progress, but he knew he was far from where he had to be.

He's been talking to Christina lately as well. He found out after her third visit that she had left her job in the government to be a banker, her words were "it was easier and the hours are more flexible". Christina had also allowed him to know that she had taken up an offer as a teller in the nearby bank and was staying in a hotel while she searches for an apartment.

He would've offered her his spare room if her had one. The money he makes at the grocery store isn't enough to pay rent for a two bedroom apartment where he lives, hell, it's barely enough to pay rent for the one bedroom he has now. Instead, he had given her a small smile and a "good luck" before he slid over a glass of water, which in turn, earned him a high five from Christina.

They're friendship could be compared to one of a brother and sister, or so he's heard from Zeke. He infers from watching Zeke and Uriah's bantering from his two and half years at Dauntless that his relationship with Christina is similar to it. Whenever the two hang out in his apartment or her hotel room, they both end up bickering over something as futile as which TV show to watch. In one instance, Christina wanted to watched _TMZ _and Tobias, being the ignorant male he was, had no idea what it was, snatched the remote out of her hands and flipped to the sports network and always said, "Now, this is television."

Despite Zeke saying that their relationship was one of a siblings, he still doesn't resist asking the question, "Did you get frisky with her?" whenever they speak on the phone. It always ends with Tobias dragging his hand down his face and muttering a disgruntled "no" into the speaker. Because of his response, Zeke would laugh into the speaker and tell him how he's falling for Christina until he shakes his head and tells him that Christina doesn't appeal to him like that.

It's a Tuesday, the day that Christina normally comes over. Tobias was massaging the knots out of his hand now, settling for rolling his neck multiple times. Christina has noticed the movement from when he's come home from work and she remembers her mother complaining during her second pregnancy with a similar complaint of cramps. When they had gone and seen their doctor, they were told it was Carpal Tunnel Syndrome and that it was normal, that some woman had suffered symptoms of the syndrome throughout the pregnancy for it to disappear after birthing their child.

Tobias doesn't think he has Carpal Tunnel, but he thinks he should start wearing a brace when shooting pain begins to shoot up his arm when he pinches the space between his thumb and index finger. But the information Christina had relied onto him has helped him piece the idea of wearing a brace to Carpal Tunnel together, without it, Tobias is sure that he would have suffered through the pain until he pieced it together.

He sinks lower into the couch and his shoulder bumps another and he jumps from surprise. His head turns and when his eyes settle on Christina's face and sly smirk, he furrows his eyebrows. "You always leave the door unlocked." She comments, pointing towards the door and propping her feet up on the newly bought coffee table.

"No I don't."

"Yeah, you do." She retorts, searching the couch cushions for the television remote. "You told me once when you were drunk that you don't have a house key so you always leave your doors unlocked."

"I did?" Now he was confused. Questions ran through his head and made him forget the task at hand and pay attention to Christina as she leaned forward to stick her hand in the cushions behind her.

"Yeah. You should stop drinking late at night, it's like someone gave you Truth Serum."

Tobias frowned, turning his body so he can face Christina even more. "But I do have a house key." He's sure of it. How else does he get into his house after he locks the door behind him?

"You told me that the locks are broken. Your key is just for show I guess. I'm no therapist, but I'm assuming that you only keep it because it makes you feel as if you're leading a normal life or something." She shrugged, pulling her hand out of the couch cushions with the TV remote in hand.

"I didn't know the locks were broken."

At this, Christina turns to face him with her eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"I didn't know the locks were broken."

Tobias shrugged, looking to the lock on his front door. "You want to test it out?"

"Test what out?"

"My experiment."

She shrugged, pushing herself off the couch with her fist. She stood awkwardly as Tobias followed suit, grabbing the sleeve of her shirt and leading her to the door. "What's the matter, Eaton? Afraid I've got cooties?" she taunted as he tossed her outside the door, efficiently causing her to stumble slightly when he had let go of her sleeve.

"Don't want to get infected now, do we?"

She shakes her head and Tobias explains to her his idea of locking his door and having Christina try to open the door (without using brute force – he had to explain that to her after she kept making snarky remarks about just breaking down the door if it doesn't work). He would be "the locksmith" as Christina called it, and locked the doors.

He locked the door and stepped back a few feet, allowing enough room for the door to open without knocking him out. Christina and him didn't set up a signal for when the other was ready so he was left awkwardly standing in his living room for a few moments before he heard the _click _of the door and the groan of its hinges. Tobias watched as Christina placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

"I told you the locks were broken."

**I'm so sorry for everything. I want to finish this. I'm determined too. If you stick with me, thank you, if you don't, I don't blame you. But I hope you like this chapter. I made a Tumblr though, so you can follow me if you want at _sheswriting. _I'm posting randomness and just jotting down things that come to mind. If you feel like following my ridiculous stuff, feel free to. If not, don't bother. **


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